


There's Good As Well

by flightinflame



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Erik Has Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Charles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-06-30 11:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Series of hurt/comfort oneshots featuring Charles and Erik.4: Hallucinations - Erik has been alone for a long time.





	1. Touch Starved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: Touch Starved - Erik enjoys being close to Charles, both before and after Cuba.  
> Thanks to Lourdes for betaing   
> For Touch-starved on hurt/comfort bingo

Charles didn't think he'd ever forget the way Erik reacted when he heard that he wasn't alone. Charles had been a child himself when he had made that discovery, found Raven creeping across the kitchen, and that had been remarkable enough. But to reach adulthood and think that there was no one - it must have been awful. To find there were others - to be accepted, to be wanted, after a lifetime of pain and rejection - Erik had been fearful at first. He hadn't known how to handle it.

But he stayed. 

It was comforting, being near Erik. Feeling the excitement that he felt as they tracked down new mutants, as he realised how many people out there like him there were. When Charles had agreed to take Erik along to track down others like them, a wave of relief had swept from him.

He'd thought, at that moment, that it was simply Erik's fear of the military that was driving it. It took a few days for him to realise the truth - that yes, Erik's fear was part of what was driving that relief, but it wasn't the only part. 

It wasn't that Charles tried to invade his friends' minds. He was fully aware that it was rude, and not seen as decent - it was tempting, but he was good at holding back from temptation. He would just bump against the surface sometimes, and if anyone had a particularly strong emotion he could tell, but he behaved. He held himself back.

Whenever he just brushed against Erik, emotion poured from him. It was an addicting sensation, the sudden sense of hope and joy and fear that Erik projected when they were close. Even if that closeness was purely incidental, Erik seemed to thrive in it. 

So Charles tried to give him what he wanted. He'd brush his hand against Erik's, or walk close enough that they could bump into each other. He knew he was attracted to the other man, but this went beyond that - he wanted to keep him company, to keep him happy. He didn't think Erik had been touched like this for a long time, and he was honoured to be the one Erik trusted to provide it.

One evening, they were playing chess, Charles's leg brushing up against Erik's, and Erik yawned.  
"You should rest," Charles told him. _Do you want to share my bed tonight?_ He looked down once he'd asked it, unsure if he'd been misreading the signs, if he might repulse Erik. He was considering the ethics of removing a few seconds of Erik's memory when Erik had reached out to squeeze his hand.

"I would like that a lot."

***

Charles remembered how Erik had held him on the beach, the look in his eyes as he'd been sent away, and guilt twisted inside of him. He couldn't help feeling that he'd failed the other man somehow. Erik had turned to him for help, and in the end he'd let him down.

He lay in his bed, and frowned slightly when he heard a noise, reaching for his lamp. His wheelchair had moved closer to the bed than it had been a moment before. 

Charles tried to reach out mentally - he could feel Hank and the children in their rooms, all asleep. He could wake them, but something made him hesitate.

He heard the window latch click open, and for the first time since coming home from the hospital, he realised just how vulnerable being on the ground floor made him. He looked around for anything he could use to defend himself, grabbing the hardback book on Lamarckian evolution that he had been reading. If nothing else, he would be able to do something. He couldn't feel who was outside, and that frightened him - because he knew who it might be, who he wanted it to be. But the technology to silence his abilities was out there. It could be anyone.

The window opened, and Erik stepped through. He looked a little pale, more tired than he had been when Charles had known him. He stumbled as he reached the room, but he smiled slightly when he saw Charles, removing the hated helmet. Charles could feel a sudden flood of emotions from him - nervousness, anguish, confusion, hope. It was the last that gave him pause.

"Why did you come here Erik?"  
"To see if it was true-" He gestured towards the wheelchair. _To see you._  
"I'm here," Charles agreed, lowering the book.  
Erik looked at him curiously. "Were you honestly intending to murder me with a book on genetics, Charles?"  
"I was trying to defend myself. You're the one who has always spoken about that."

"You ...should try using your powers. I'm sure Hank could tear me apart if you asked it," Erik argued. "I never expected someone with your abilities to defend themselves with a textbook."  
_I hoped it was you,_ Charles answered. "I thought it would be overly dramatic to wake Hank if it was just an old friend visiting." _Will you stay?_  
"And if I had come to kill you Charles?" Erik asked. _I can't. There's too much to do._  
"Well then, that's where the textbook comes in. I can defend myself."

Charles pretended not to see the flicker of pain that crossed Erik's face as he approached the bed.  
"It's true then. You're... I did this."  
"You did. But it's alright, aside from struggling to defend myself from burglars I am managing quite well." Charles sighed. "Why are you here, Erik?" He could feel waves of uncertainty, and then Erik moved onto the bed, reaching out and wrapping his arms around Charles. 

Charles gasped slightly, before returning the embrace, his hands running down Erik's back, feeling the faint bumps of his spine. He pressed a kiss to Erik's forehead.  
_What do you need?_ he asked, fingers stroking through Erik's hair.  
_Can I stay tonight?_ Erik replied, curling up closer, pressing into Charles's touch. Charles knew he could never deny Erik anything.

When he woke up, Erik was gone again. But there was a twisted piece of metal on the bedside cabinet, a promise that what he remembered was real. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands, hypnotised as always by Erik's craft.  
On the underside there was a message.  
'I'll see you soon'.


	2. Experiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2: Experiments - Erik is woken by a nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oneshot - Cherik, canon-verse.  
> Prompt for H/C bingo: Experiments   
> (Warnings for human experimentation on children and violence)

Erik knew he was asleep. He was exhausted, after a long day of settling into the mansion, moving things around and trying to make the place habitable once more. It was still almost unbelievable, that Charles had grown up in such luxury. He and Charles had played chess long into the night, until Charles had risen stiffly, and muttered about sleep. Erik had followed him to the room Charles had picked out. 

Logically, he knew that he was dreaming - he'd gone to bed beside Charles, part of him could still sense the clock in their room, the belt buckles on the floor, the wristwatch Charles had kept on even when sleeping - but it didn't help. Knowing you were asleep didn't stop the fear that was bubbling inside of him.

It had been a long time since he had had a nightmare like this. Not long enough - never long enough - but some time. He was trapped. He could feel something around his arms, knowing he was trapped in a chair. The roof over his head was curved, and the air felt damp.  
"Now..." A male voice cut through the air, and he cringed, wanted to flinch away, wanted to scream. He knew the voice didn't belong to Herr Doktor, and somehow that was worse - he must have failed totally if Schmidt had sent him away. He had been sent away and now he was god only knew where, and he was terrified.

The man was smiling at him, but the smile scared him, and he wanted to struggle but he couldn't.  
"Now boy, I promise this won't hurt. Don't make a fuss now. Uncle Nathan's come a long way to see you today, you wouldn't want to let him down, would you?" The words echoed strangely, and then his head ached, a sharp shooting pain as though it was being split open. Erik tried to escape but he was trapped, he couldn't move and he was screaming. 

The pressure suddenly fell away, and arms wrapped around him, and he curled up into them, afraid. His eyes wouldn't open, and he didn't want to see that man looking down at him. 

Gentle fingers brushed through his hair, and he slowly opened his eyes to find Charles was staring down at him, his eyes blown wide with horror. His face was pale, and there were tears making their way down his face.  
"Erik?" he asked softly. "Erik, are you alright?"  
"I'm fine. Just a nightmare," Erik answered, and a wave of guilt swept through him, because he realised now that he had just had a nightmare while sleeping beside a telepath. "Did I... Charles, did you see that? I am so sorry-"

"Erik." Charles sighed, reaching to stroke a strand of hair back from Erik's face. "You didn't wake me."  
"You felt my nightmare, didn't you Charles? I..."  
"I didn't," Charles said.  
"You're crying."  
"Erik. It was mine. That memory... they spoke English, didn't they?"

Erik thought for a moment, and then nodded.  
"They did-" he agreed, and Charles flinched.  
"That... that was my father, and his close friend. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you through that. I shouldn't have agreed to you sharing with me, I should have known this would happen-"  
"No," Erik interrupted him. "You... you couldn't have known what would happen here."

"I didn't want you to know," Charles whispered. "I'm sorry. I was tired, I let my control slip a little..."  
Erik reached out, enfolding Charles in an embrace.  
"You let me say such... hurtful things. You... I teased you, and you said nothing-"  
"What could I have said?" Charles asked. "You have your tricks, I have mine. And one of my tricks is knowing when to stay quiet, when not to let someone worry about what is going on. I'm sorry Erik."

"You only need to be sorry about keeping this from me. Are they-"  
"My father is dead. I don't know about Nathaniel."  
"Once Schmidt is gone-" Erik murmured, and Charles shook his head.  
"Not tonight Erik. Please. I just... just let me stay near you and sleep, can you give me that?"  
"I... I can do that Charles," Erik promised, and Charles nodded, pulling the blanket up around him.  
"I... I'm sorry. I'll make sure my shields are stronger," Charles murmured, and Erik nodded.  
"If you need anything though, you will wake me," Erik insisted.  
Charles nodded, squeezing Erik's hand and settling back down to sleep.

Erik stayed awake that night, stroking Charles's hair and considering revenge. The humans had hurt both of them. He wouldn't let it happen again. In his embrace, Charles slept without further nightmares.


	3. Undeserved Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3: Undeserved Reputation - Charles knows the students gossip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oneshot - Cherik, canon-verse. (Post-Apocalypse)  
> Prompt for H/C bingo: Undeserved Reputation   
> (Warning for ableism)

Charles was used to people talking about him - and thinking about him. One of the hazards of being a telepath was that he knew that people were talking about him. One of the problems of being in a wheelchair was feeling their stares, knowing he was seen as something pitiful, something broken. 

He'd heard people talk, under their breath, about it. Heard people say he was good looking, wheelchair aside. That it was a shame his mind was stuck in that body. That he wasn't suited for anything. That he was weak. He'd fought back the most powerful and most ancient mutant, had saved the world multiple times over - and yet they saw the chair before they saw him. More than once, he saw people's surprise when he spoke to them - they weren't expecting him to be able to talk. He took pleasure in introducing himself as a professor at times like that.

He didn't mean to pry. It was just that he had learned young to keep his defences up, and they were difficult to lower now. He'd learned to use his powers to keep people from getting too close, hating when people tried to move him out of their way by pushing his chair, as if he was just an object.

But his powers couldn't protect him from everything, and he knew he needed to pick his arguments. So he kept quiet when he heard people staring at him, thinking how sorry they felt for him. That he must be some meek, mild man who could never argue. That he was bound to never be loved. That last one had made him laugh a little, later.

Because he was loved. The night after that comment, he had manoeuvred into bed, and then turned to Erik.  
"Guess what I heard today?"  
"What?"  
"I heard that I couldn't be loved," he told him, and then laughed as he felt the frame of the bed shake slightly. "Calm, Erik."  
"They said... Who said that? Why?"  
"Just strangers. Hank and I took Kurt into town to buy some new clothes, and someone walking past thought that. Because of ... my body," Charles answered, reaching out to caress Erik's cheek. "Because they're only able to see what I can't do."  
"I love your body," Erik muttered, his hands running across Charles's sides. "You know that."  
"I do." Charles laughed softly. "You've made it quite clear, on several occasions, what you think of my body."

"I've never heard you complain," Erik pointed out, stretching and then leaning in to kiss him.  
"I know," Charles agreed. "I haven't had any reason to."

***

The next morning they woke slowly, with Charles more sure than ever that Erik had absolutely no hesitation in loving him, with as much devotion and enthusiasm as any man half his age. He made his way to the bathroom, letting Erik go off and fetch breakfast, and the two of them ate together before they headed down to start the day. 

The children were all working on homework, crowded around lunch tables, when Charles made his way in. A few of the younger students were gossiping.

He frowned when he heard their words, whispered but about him, so louder than the background hum of the cafeteria.   
"Apocalypse broke his spine in retaliation for fighting-"  
"He saved the world before they paralysed him-"  
"It was good of the other teachers to let him stay on."

One of the children yelped as his fork jumped slightly in his hand, and Charles put a calming hand on Erik's, before he wheeled over.  
"Why would the other teachers not let the headmaster stay on at his own school, Remy?" Charles asked softly.  
"Hi… Hi professor." The boy squirmed awkwardly in his chair. "I mean... I didn't mean that-"  
"Yes you did," Charles said quietly. "You did, and I know you did, but I fought Apocalypse with my mind, not my legs. I was paralysed in the sixties. The past..." He hesitated, thinking of the seventies, when he had been at his weakest point and still managed to fight on. That particular battle was one he hoped the children would never understand. "...The past twenty years, I have been using this wheelchair, after my spine was severed. And I have fought. But now, my concern is for something far more important: your education. And your homework is late. So if I was you, I'd get that done rather than engaging in gossip, don't you think?"  
"Yes Professor," Remy muttered.

Charles smiled as he rolled back to Erik's side.  
"I spoke to him. He's got a lot to think about."  
"And you won't just prove it-" Erik asked, his words accompanied with images of Charles making full use of his telepathy on Remy. Charles shook his head.  
"Erik, I am proving my strength every day. I don't need to do any more than run this school to know what I am capable of, and I refuse to perform whatever tricks they expect. They don't understand my strength."

Erik nodded, glancing around at the canteen, the haven that Charles had built.  
"You're the strongest man I've met," he said softly, and Charles nodded.  
"I know." He squeezed Erik's hand. "And I have a class to teach."


	4. Hallucinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4: Hallucinations - Erik has been alone for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oneshot - Cherik, Canonverse, DoFP era  
> H/C Bingo Prompt: Hallucinations/illusions (Warnings for canonical torture and mental illness)

The light was constant. Erik had no idea how long he'd been here, just that the light always shone on him. He knew every inch of the room. Five sided, like the building above. Those constant lights, the chute that they dropped his food down, the mat they gave him to lie on. He'd folded up some towels, used them to provide a pillow of sorts. He'd move his improvised bed around the room, a different wall each time he slept. He used it to try and keep track of days, but he just felt himself spiralling. There was a drain in the corner, a plastic bathroom that would rise from the ground every few hours.

Other than that, it was nothing. Silence. 

He'd thought Schmidt had done everything that could be done to break his mind, but it turned out that the bastard had nothing on the cold cruelty of humans.

It wasn't just the light of course, or the stillness, or the silence. It was the way this room was designed to torment him. There was no metal here. He wished they had just killed him. If he had done what they thought, it would have been kinder, but no. They made him suffer through every day. He was going to stay in this room until he died, and then they would throw his body out onto the garbage.

There was no metal there, nothing that called out to his senses. It was like being blindfolded, having your sense of touch removed. He couldn't feel the world around him. 

With Schmidt, the pain had always had a purpose. It was a sick thing to miss, but he did. The knowledge that he was being tortured for a reason, because Schmidt thought it would make him stronger, let him learn - the doctors here could have done that to him, but no, it was just this meaningless, empty torture. Some days he'd wake to find there were needle marks on his body, knew he'd been examined while unconscious - they wouldn't let him die. When he'd tried refusing food, he'd skipped a lot of time, and woken to find that he had been fed.

Otherwise, he was left alone. Unbelievable cruelty without reason. They weren't even doing this to hurt him. They were just doing it because they could.

That was how he knew, when Charles came, that it was a dream.

He had been exercising, trying to think, to keep his mind sharp. To resist the urge to sob and break and give in. Because that was what the bastards wanted. And he'd opened his eyes, and Charles was standing there, a kind smile on his face.

"It's been a long time, old friend," Charles had said, but his watch hadn't been there. There wasn't the ping of metal that called to Erik's senses, that he had been longing for. Charles wasn't real. If Erik gave a sign of seeing him, it would serve only to provide his human guards with some entertainment.

That first day, he'd ignored Charles, and lain awake, pretending to sleep but unable to put the thought of him out of his mind.

The next time, he'd seen Charles on the ground, the way he'd left him in Cuba, cursing Erik for what he had done wrong.

The next, Charles had asked if he wanted to play chess, and his mind had conjured up the board as well.

At some point, he stopped fighting it. He kept his head down, knowing they couldn't put microphones or cameras in the cell itself without arming him. He knew Charles wasn't real. But Charles was the best thing in this strange, stunted pretence at a life, and Erik was too broken to keep fighting.

He apologised to his image of Charles. For everything he'd done. For everything he hadn't. Imagined the two of them working together, to fulfil a better world for their kind.

Erik knew he was losing his mind talking to ghosts, he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Then one day, when food arrived, it had come with a note.  
_Mind the glass_

And then there was conversation, the first time in years, and then the lift door opened, and he found himself faced with the one person he had never expected to see again, not in reality.

"Charles?"

Charles drew his fist back and punched him, and that was real. No illusion could be that vivid. With a smirk, he lifted his hand to his face. 

"Good to see you too, old friend."


End file.
